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asked. “No? You’re gonna love him, he’s such an awesome speaker. Oh, look, Brother Dunn is going over to the podium. That means the program’s about to start. We’d better sit down.” She led them directly to three empty seats in the middle of the second row from the front. She tried to sit between them, but Kelly maneuvered so that Magdalena had to sit on her left.
    To Kelly’s right, Claudia dropped into her seat with more than a little exasperation. Their original plan had been to buttonhole James Miller early on and leave before the program began. But to decline Magdalena’s invitation at this point would look odd. Considering the surreptitious nature of their business at the rally, it wouldn’t do to make themselves conspicuous. Seated where they were now, sneaking a chat with James Miller before the program began was out of the question. They were stuck for the duration.
    The man Magdalena had referred to as Brother Dunn called the meeting to order. Short and stocky in a drab brown suit, a Friar Tuck fringe of hair ringed his bald pate. Leaning heavily on the podium he cleared his throat and tapped his finger against the microphone a couple of times. The hollow echo indicated that it was turned on.
    Claudia twisted in her seat to scan the rows and rows of people behind them. Standing room only. “I’ve never seen so many happy-looking people,” she said to Kelly, nodding toward the ushers lining the walls.
    “Stepfordized. Mass hypnosis. If we start to get sleepy, we make a break for it!”
    “You might not be so far off. If we didn’t have such a good reason for being here, I’d be all for making that break right now.”
    At that moment, Brother Dunn’s gaze swung around and he looked directly at them. For an uncomfortable moment Claudia considered whether there might be some way he could have heard them.
    He’d have to have the hearing of a bat.
    He opened his arms wide. “Welcome, welcome, everyone, welcome. Please turn off all cell phones and pagers before we begin. After all, God speaks to us directly. He doesn’t use cell phones.”
    “But he’s one hell of a Twitterer,” Kelly whispered.
    Claudia suppressed a grin. The lights dimmed to half brightness and the volume of a hundred conversations lowered to a hum as people hustled to find a seat. As close to the stage as Magdalena had placed them, they had a clear view of the beneficent smile Brother Dunn beamed at the audience.
    “We’ll open our meeting with a nondenominational prayer,” he said, bowing his head. He began to intone, “Father-Mother God, we are thankful for the time you have given us to come together this evening to share our concerns about the future and to learn what you have in store for us. We ask your blessing on this assembled throng who so desperately need your help and guidance. Please open their minds and hearts and allow them to comprehend your mercy and your grace. Amen.”
    Someone in the crowd shouted out Amen. Others echoed. Skeptical though she was about the Temple of Brighter Light and its motives, Claudia had so far not heard anything to which she objected. Brother Dunn said a few words of welcome, then introduced Harold Stedman and stepped aside.
    The thunderous applause that followed indicated to Claudia that she and Kelly were in the minority in the ballroom. Unlike them, most of the attendees seemed familiar with Harold Stedman and had returned for more of his message. She sat up straighter, curious to see the man Erin held in such great esteem; the one who had drawn this crowd.
    She felt a little let down by the man who approached the podium. Not at all the handsome guru she had been half hoping for. Harold Stedman could have been anyone’s grandfather. Mid- to late seventies, his egg-shaped head was smooth and bald, the blue eyes hooded, prominent nose hooked. Dark eyebrows made a startling contrast to the white beard. The charcoal gray suit with an immaculate white shirt and patterned tie gave